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FIND ME MY MAN sets the tone immediately with the title. These women are toxic bachelorettes for one reason or another. Their supreme matchmaker, Natalie Clarice, says the show is relationship therapy for “women with a lot of issues.”

That’s putting it nicely, because this is about watching crazy and makes no bones about it. The show has a simple formula: first we get an eye full of some woman giving into her toxic thang.

Like Mercedes, who is stunningly beautiful. When dating a guy, one of the first things Mercedes likes to do is what she calls “A meat check”. She wants a picture of his penis for her iphone and she wants it before the first kiss. As a friend delicately puts it: “she wants to verify before buying,” —putting this show WAY over the top.

Next, Natalie, our matchmaker sends out all her clients on a fake date with one of her associates, who provides a canvas for the client to paint upon with all the colors of her particular crazy. Mercedes, for instance, discusses how she wants a guy to put some effort into his penis photo. What about using a colorful backdrop?

Who knew? Meat checks are a no-no on a first date.

Next, a client is marched back to Natalie for the reveal–Mercedes is introduced to her fake date in his true guise. Then Natalie gives her hell. This is the kind of show where the matchmaker proceeds to beats up her “client” until there’s a throw down and it’s over, or until the client breaks down and practically weeps. Then the client is patched up and told she’s all better if she just listens to someone else and stops being so crazy.

It’s a depressing formula and I’m not saying the show is fake, but it can feel a little too easy to see such supreme crazy followed immediately by such easy catharsis.

On the other hand, Natalie is African American, and so are most of her clients. Myself, I don’t think that there’s enough television programming for people who aren’t covered in heavy spray tan. I also find African-American cultural ways and expressions refreshing from the norm you see on TV. It was that more than anything that kept me hooked.

Mercedes learns an important lesson: sometimes a cowgirl position is just a cowgirl position.

On the first episode Mercedes learns not to pre-judge a guy so quickly. So maybe he likes the cowgirl position in bed–it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a lazy lover. Mercedes returns from her second date reluctantly confessing she played nice. “I was really good, I didn’t violate him, didn’t meat check him.”

By the end Natalie has proven her genius. Sending off a reluctant client with marching orders: “The bitch switch, turned off,” she waits for the client to return with a glow. Gushing over her gorgeous date, the client sums up her Cinderella moment. “It’s like, damn, where the hell you been?”

Like this:

Years ago, there used to be a TV commercial for an audio tape in which the announcer asked, “Is it real, or is it Memorex?” The presumption being, of course, that the sound quality of the tape is so good listeners can’t tell whether they’re hearing an actual, real performance or an audiotape recording. That analogy describes a little bit how I felt recently when I happened to catch a couple episodes of the Showtime “reality” series, Gigolos.

Have you seen this show? For the uninitiated, here’s the scoop. The show takes place in Las Vegas and is about five guys who work for Cowboys4Angels escort service. They spend plenty of time escorting women out of their clothes, and much of the show is scenes of the guys with their “dates,” showing the ladies a good time in and out of the bedroom. Showtime’s official site for the show describes it like this: “Showtime presents an extremely rare and uncensored look into the personal and professional lives of five hot guys in Vegas who like to hang out, have fun and get girls, but in their case they get paid for it.”

I can certainly be on board with looking at hot guys. Having them frequently taking their clothes off doesn’t hurt, either. Oh, and did I mention, they’re extremely hot. Their bodies, I mean. Their faces aren’t exactly tough to look at, either, and they spend a lot of time in every episode having lots of sex with various women. So OK, so far, so good. But the thing is, Gigolos is served up as a “reality” show. As in, this is really how life is for these guys. You know, like how we know what Kim Kardashians’ life is like (if, in our weaker moments, we’ve kept up with the Kardashians). Or how we know the struggles people go through who strive to be The Biggest Loser? Or who try to break their hoarding habits. You get my point. With Gigolos, though, there is ample speculation that this reality show is about as real as Victoria Beckham’s bubbies.

According to thedailybeast.com, Gigolos is so fake that “it raises the question of whether the profession exists.” In the article about the show, writer Richard Abowitz says he reached a woman who appeared on the show who says she views her appearance as nothing more than “an acting gig.” She says it’s entirely fictional and that the sex was simulated for the camera. Hmmm. Well, that certainly doesn’t bode well for the “reality” of Gigolos.

Then again, do I care? Do I really feel duped by learning that some elements on reality shows aren’t real at all? The people in Survivor competitions aren’t actually “surviving” in the classical definition of the word, meaning “to remain alive or in existence.” After all, it’s not like the producers would let someone die on one of those islands. So should I really get my panties in a twist from learning that the Gigolos might not actually be gigolos? Ummmm . . . nah. Instead, what I’m going to do is sit back and watch Nick, Vin, Brace, Steven, and Ash romp about Vegas, take their clothes off, have hot sex with beautiful women, and tell me all about it.

Lady Smut is a blog for intelligent women who like to read smut. On this blog we talk about our writing, the erotic romance industry, masculinity, femininity, sexuality, and whatever makes our pulses race.